Sleepless In Kansas
by euphoricunderworld
Summary: Dean is an insomniac college student. What happens when his foolproof way of making himself sleep gets him more than he bargained for? Destiel. [Cross-posted from AO3]
1. Chapter 1

It felt like there was sand in his eyes, grinding away at the sensitive organs. His hands shook as he reached for another glass of water. The back of his head felt like it was full of cement. "You look like hell, man." His brother turned a pitying expression to him, and he was just too tired to be witty.

"I know."

Thirty seven hours and forty nine minutes of wakefulness takes a toll on a man. He felt so tired during the day, thinking longingly of his bed and blissful dreamlessness. Instead, he had crawled into his bed last night and felt claustrophobic and insecure. His thoughts followed a cycle, touching on different things with each pass, but always landing on the same thought. What was wrong with him?

He had somehow made it through the day, so tired he could not fall asleep, even in his Survey of American History class. Finally, he was home, with no pressing obligations until one the next afternoon. He showered, relaxing his muscles with overheated water and the calming scent of vanilla shampoo.

Naked, he lay on his stomach in his bed. One arm was by his side, tucked under his hip; the other pulled his pillow into a more pleasing shape under his head. His left knee was facing away from him, his right foot straight below. Dean closed his eyes, waiting for oblivion.

His thoughts grew restless and he rolled onto his back, hoping to stop his mind from revolving again.

Why was he the way he was? Why was it so impossible for him to just sleep? Was there something wrong with the chemicals in his brain? It must have something to do with is personality. He held too tightly to some things, like his brother and his need to protect and feel needed. There were things he held like fire – too far to burn but close enough to feel the warmth. Those were the things he craved so much they scared him.

He wanted acceptance and love, but why would anyone give him those things? He couldn't do it, not really. Oh, there were things he accepted but he never could wrap his mind around the whole picture.

His sexuality was something he could accept. Mostly, at least. He could accept what it was, but all the labels just pissed him off. Why should it matter if he hit on a woman but ended up leaving with a man? If he was attracted to them, it was because of them, not what they kept in their pants or what box they checked on government forms.

Other people didn't understand, but it really did not bother him.

What bothered him right now was that he still could not sleep!

With a sinking heart, Dean realized he had been lying here, fruitlessly courting sleep for three hours. It was one in the morning and Sam had just opened the door. He was home from Jess's house.

Sam was always considerate of Dean. He knew he could never sleep and so never invited Jess to spend the night; he felt bad when Dean would wake after only a few hours of sleep to the sound of a hastily muffled text tone. Another person talking, breathing, existing in the same area would quickly send him into insomniac hell. So he stayed over there, or made sure to come home alone.

With a sigh, Dean sat up and ran his hand over his face. A clean pair of pajama pants were pulled over his legs and onto his hips before he left his room. Sam's shoulders drooped when he saw Dean walk to the fridge. "I'm sorry."

Dean hated hearing that tone come out of his brother, as if he was apologizing for existing. Dean shot him a grin, but he knew the circles around his eyes robbed it of its usual charm. "Not you." He grabbed himself a root beer, caffeine free soda for the insomniac, of course. "Catch some sleep, dude. One of us should."

Sam listened, for once. When his brother's back had disappeared into his bedroom, he set up his laptop. If he was going to be awake, he might as well be productive. There was an English paper due next week, and he could start it early since he had the time.

A few more hours passed and Dean knew he was almost to the hallucination point of sleep deprivation. He had been there often enough to see it coming. As he drank another root beer before jumping in yet another shower, because he never felt clean when tiredness weighed him down like mud on his skin, he realized it was possibly a good thing. It was not something he liked to do, but he knew that if he got close to that point, there were things that he could do to make sleep come.

With this solution in mind, Dean was careful when dressing for work. Dark, tight jeans were pulled over black leather work boots. A slightly looser black t-shirt was layered under a red plaid button up. He was ready for his after work plans.

It was fifteen minutes before his shift when Dean parked his Impala outside of Singer Salvage, his Uncle Bobby's business and his place of employment. Bobby shook his head at Dean, but didn't say anything as he pulled coveralls over his jeans and t-shirt, leaving the plaid hanging on his hook. He did not bother hiding his look of worry as Dean dug into a Ford Festiva's carburetor problem.

The day passed with Dean ignoring the nauseous, shaky feeling that exhaustion and lack of appetite combined to create in his body. Bobby watched him like a hawk, muttering 'idjit' under his breath when Dean's trembling hands dropped a bolt for the third time. Dean chewed his lip to avoid screaming at the older man. It was not his fault he was irritating Dean, he was just worried. Everyone knew that so little sleep was not healthy. Bobby was a second father to him, better than his first, actually, and he should be thanked for his concern.

It was just that his concern set Dean's teeth on edge.

Bobby finally lost all patience and sent him home an hour early. He stripped the coveralls off and pulled the plaid back on, then climbed back into his car. There was plenty of time to scope out the Roadhouse before he brought somebody home. A little alcohol, some sex, and Dean would be able to sleep for a while, at least until his temporary bed partner tried to leave.

A glance in the rear view mirror served as a last minute appearance check. Honestly, Dean was surprised he looked as good as he did. A constant state of sleep deprivation had burned his body's reserves until the bones of his body and face stood out starkly, though only the barest hint of stubble graced his chin. Purplish stains surrounded his eyes, making him look as if he spent his nights fighting, instead of restless. It made the green of his irises quite striking, actually. His lips weren't chapped for once, and his hair was actually willing to be styled as he wanted it after two showers. All in all, he looked pretty damned good for someone who's most recent stretch of consciousness had passed the seventy one hour mark.

As insurance, he sent a text to Sam that said he was going to bring someone home. Sam would know what that meant and would not approve, but he knew that Dean was not going to let it become the problem it had been before. He trusted that Dean didn't want to become that person again; the person that passed out drunk and puking in front of the toilet or woke up next to strangers with no recollection of even meeting, just for the sake of a few hours' sleep. He had worked hard to be where he was, even if he got less sleep. He had not liked being so dependent on something so blatantly addictive, being dependent on something that had already torn his family apart. Dean knew that this was why the only response he got from Sam was a warning to be careful.

That was all he needed to be ready. It was not smart; he and Sam both knew it. But Dean was desperate. This was just the latest stretch in weeks of crappy sleep cycles. He was going to fail his classes if he zombied out instead of paying attention. Grandpa Samuel wouldn't pay for college if he wasn't going to pass, and he would probably disappoint Bobby more than he wanted to think about. Dean was convinced everything would be okay if he could just fucking sleep.

The door to the Roadhouse brought Dean to a dimly lit, smoky room that looked much bigger with the lights on. He had no intention of seeing that tonight, though. No, he wanted to be curled around a warm body in his bed by the time Ellen shouted for last call. To that end, he took himself to the bar, which was really the midway point between the types of patrons the Roadhouse catered to. From the door to the bar, it was a socialization center, with people sitting at tables and talking, or playing pool, with a steady rock beat in the background. From the bar to the back of the building, shiny linoleum floor rocked with lights and skittering, pulsating dance music.

Ellen smiled when she saw him. "Hey, good looking. Been a while since I saw you."

The sounds at the bar, rock warring with pop, shouted conversation and screamed come-ons were blending into a beat that his body still knew. It amped him up, made him smile at the bartender, and made a part of him regret giving it up. He squashed that, knowing that he had made the right decision. "That's college. Whiskey and sprite?" He didn't really like the drink, but Coke had caffeine in it. All the things his fucked up mind had taken away from him made him even angrier. He couldn't even drink a damn Coke.

Ellen smiled and made his drink, having it in his hand before he had completed one turn of his surveillance. He winked at her before something told him to look behind himself again. A dark haired man, wearing all black and a smug smile, laid his hand on the shoulder of another dark haired man, though the second was taller than the first. Dean watched them, a feeling in his stomach telling him he needed to. The taller man seemed to be unhappy with his situation. He jerked his shoulder away from the shorter man, but it did not seem to deter him. For a few seconds, Dean watched this continue as the taller man slowly made his way towards the bar, but never quite making it.

Dean took a swallow of his drink before giving a quick, unfriendly, smile to Ellen and moved toward them. He didn't like when someone could not take no for an answer. He just had time to register that the taller man was wearing a waistcoat – and who does that in a bar? – before he turned and looked directly at his harasser. His messy hair caught a patch of light from the bar, showing it to be a deep brown and not black, before he lifted his arms and forcibly shoved the shorter man away from him. The black clad man stepped toward the formal one, straightening his black dress shirt. His chin jutted out, pompously declaring his disbelief, if Dean was any judge.

He had stopped when he thought that the man had stopped the situation, but he started forward again now. However, he could have saved himself the trouble. He was just four feet away when the tall man punched the other in the jaw with a mean right hook.

Dean thought that it was possibly the sexiest thing he had seen in quite some time.

Before the bully-turned-victim could retaliate, Dean was by his side and forcibly gripped his arm, pulling him toward the door. The crowd was opening around them when Dean looked at the man. His chin seemed to be swelling, and his lower lip bleeding. "A gentleman knows when to take no for an answer." There was a police officer standing outside the door when Dean shoved him through.

"Sod off." The injured man jerked his shirt back into place again and raised a lofty brow to the police officer, before calmly stalking away from the bar. The officer just nodded at Dean and followed after him.

Now that this was taken care of, Dean could go admire the man that had dealt that damage. He found him at the bar, dropping a shot down his throat, ignoring the bag of ice Ellen was trying to hand him. Just as Dean got within easy speaking distance of the two of them, the man turned to Dean. His eyes widened and it felt as if his heart kicked up a beat. The man was all angular features and tanned skin around full lips and Dean could swear that someone had painted those eyes on him, they were so blue.

Too bad the man was obviously not interested in being taken home tonight.

"Great shot, man. Couldn't have done better myself." He smiled, the charm he had sworn was gone back in full force. He held out his hand. "Dean."


	2. Chapter 2

For a second, Dean was worried that his lack of sleep had made his drink go to his head faster than he thought it had. Was he suddenly less charming? The man just tilted his head and raised one eyebrow, just slightly. Then he gave a half grin and grabbed his hand. Soft skin with just a touch of callous met his fingers, but his thumb felt a broken, semi-scabbed knuckle. Apparently, it didn't hurt enough for the ice.

A man that could take pain was fucking hot, in Dean's opinion.

"Castiel. And no, you could not have. Ex-boyfriends definitely hit harder." Dean tried to stop the small smile that tried to consume his lips. Maybe there was a chance he would let Dean take him home. After hearing that voice, Dean really, really wanted to take him home. That voice was already deep and sexual, and made Dean wonder just how much he'd have to do to bring it down to inhuman levels of hearing.

"I hope you left him, not the other way around." When the man gave another head tilt and brow lift, which was actually kind of doing it for him, he continued. "If he left you, he's stupider than he looks." When he continued to look confused, Dean made a point of dragging his eyes up and down Castiel's body.

The confusion seemed to clear up after that, because he even smiled completely. Then, he took the drink that Ellen left beside him and leaned back against the bar. He watched Dean, not bothering with the sideways looks he was used to. Dean was not sure if it was because he had been so bold in his flirting, which really was not actually odd for him, or if this was just the way Castiel flirted. Either way, he gave another cheeky smile before finishing a second drink. The buzzing sensation in the back of his head told him that he did not need more alcohol, so he just paid his tab. A part of him wanted to text Sammy and tell him that he knew what he was doing, because he had only had two drinks and willingly cut himself off. The other parts of him were saying to pay attention to the hot man next to him, if he really wanted to sleep tonight.

"You know that I can defend myself from unwanted advances." Castiel gave no indication if he meant it sarcastically or not.

Dean felt a moment's hesitation at that, but then smiled again. "I think you would've punched me already if you didn't want it." He signed the receipt that Ellen pushed to him and then added a smiley face and the word thanks to the bottom. She winked when she saw them, and Dean just shook his head. The woman was always pushing for him to get serious with someone, had even tried to set him up with her daughter. That had ended in a pretty decent friendship, but both had decided there was no way that they were going to ever be more than that.

Castiel signaled for his tab as he looked at Dean. Really, Dean felt he was seeing far more than could possibly be revealed in the poor lighting of a smoky bar, but he was not sure that he didn't like it. "I would have."

It only took a second of patience, Dean waiting for Castiel to sign the slip of paper, before Dean got his attention back. "Wanna come back to my place?" Something about the way Castiel flirted with him made him want to be even blunter than he usually was. "I'd really like to fuck you."

Dean shoved his hands in his pockets, because they had started that fine trembling again. He wasn't sure if it was still just from lack of sleep, or if it was because the way the guy was looking at him now made his blood pump faster. "I will be outside of this bar in about five minutes. If you are there, I –" That smile was incredibly sexy, and Dean almost forgot to listen to the end of that sentence. "will definitely think about fucking you."

Dean turned and walked toward the door, not really caring what the guy did in five minutes, because he would be sitting there for him. The cooler night air brushed over his face as he took a few steps outside. There was no sign of the cop or Castiel's apparent ex-boyfriend, which was all to the good according to Dean.

However, the time was probably not great. It gave him a moment to think. One of the reasons he had been so willing to give up this kind of life was that he had started to hate himself. Or, rather, he had started to hate everything about himself, instead of just some of it. He had started to think of finding partners like conducting a business transaction. It made him feel dirty because it almost felt like prostitution, though they gave him sleep instead of money. However, it also made him feel low because he was using these people. Never mind that people did this sort of thing all the time, Dean should know better than to twist someone's desires into a way to meet his own needs.

He was a pro, though. Professional at hiding his feelings, acting like nothing was wrong at all. By the time he heard a throat being cleared behind him he had his expression schooled into one of interest. It slipped, just a bit, into a smirk when he saw that Castiel had donned a less than immaculate tan trench coat. The contrast between fitted dress pants, dress shirt, waist coat, and an honest to God tie, and a shapeless shroud around him made him want to chuckle.

Instead of saying anything, Dean just nodded his head toward his Impala. The man followed, waiting as Dean opened the door for him and crawling in with another raised brow in his direction. He didn't say anything, so Dean didn't have to worry yet. Instead, he slid into the driver's seat and started the car. As he pulled out of the parking lot, he sent a glance toward the man. "So, Castiel, what do you do?"

"I am an accountant. What of you?" He seemed interested, turned to be able to look at Dean without getting a crick in his neck. His attention never wavered, and Dean wasn't sure if it was unnerving or if he appreciated it.

"I'm a college student – business management – and a mechanic." He smiled at Cas, then dragged his attention back to the road. He wondered how old he was. He looked to be a few years older than his twenty two. It didn't really matter, though. They were already pulling up to the house he shared with Sammy.

Castiel did not want for him to open the door for him, instead popping it open and standing beside the car before Dean had time to pick the right key out of all the rest. The porch was only vaguely lit, because Dean had forgotten to change the light bulb when it changed from bright white to sickly yellow. It was still on, and really, that was all he cared about. It meant that Sam had indeed left the house with the intention of sleeping at Jess's. He didn't have to worry about finally falling asleep only to be woken by Sam failing to stealth into the house.

Another twinge of regret rolled up his spine. Here he was pretending that he was in this for the sex. He was going to like it, he was sure. Even if it was awful, it would be better than he'd had in the last few months – none. Castiel was a damn sexy looking man, and if Dean had been on the other end of a full night's sleep, he would definitely be screwing this guy faster than an eye blink. Dean really just wanted to sleep that would come after, though.

What kind of Winchester was he that would rather sleep than have sex?

Dean made an effort to push that thought away as he opened the door and stepped in before Castiel. He flipped on the hall light before he leaned against the wall and toed his shoes off. Once Castiel had finished doing the same thing, he hooked a finger in the pocket of Castiel's pants and started leading him back toward his bedroom. He moved them both back, but made sure Castiel was slightly faster than he was, so that he was kissing him before they made it through the doorway.

Castiel kissed him back, his lips soft and resistant for only a few seconds before getting demanding. He pushed himself into Dean's mouth, not waiting for Dean to allow entry. It was something new to Dean, most of his lovers were… not hesitant, but something like it. They were generally receptive versus aggressive. Dean thought that this new way was pretty freaking great.

His mouth wasn't the only thing getting pushy. He pushed his hands up Dean's chest and over his shoulder's, pushing the plaid off of him. Dean let it drop before he started working at the buttons on the waistcoat. His legs hit the bed before he got it off, and Castiel grunted into his mouth as he started helping with the buttons. With the both of them working buttons and pulling at fabrics, Castiel was shortly without a shirt, or anything for that matter. Dean was amazed the guy could undo a tie while kissing, because they hadn't stopped so it hadn't come off over his head.

Heated fingers skimmed up his sides as Castiel pulled his shirt up. Dean pulled back, waiting for the shirt to be over his face so he could go back to kissing the lips that were definitely top ten of all the lips he'd kissed. Castiel hesitated, though. The collar of his shirt was just above his mouth, the rest covering his eyes. It felt like it was being pulled to his left, so Dean tilted his head that way. Castiel was an inch or so shorter than him, but he didn't really understand why that would make taking his shirt off at all odd.

His soft moan of questioning was answered by a gentle bite to the right side of his neck. Teeth scraped across his suddenly crazily sensitive skin and he growled and ripped the shirt the rest of the way off his head with one hand, burying the other in Castiel's hair. When his fingers clenched, Castiel bit harder, and it was a good thing Dean was already half leaning on the bed. His knees had suddenly decided they didn't need to support his weight anymore.

When he dropped to the bed, a breathless word left his mouth. "Cas." The other man released the pressure of his lips and ran his tongue in a circle around the imprinted skin. Air touched heated wet skin and it was like sex was new to Dean again. Cas was looking down at him, because apparently he had seen they were going to the bed right then, and Dean was totally going to pay him back for that cheap shot, and had managed to fall so he straddled Dean.

He could feel himself pressing against his jeans and against Castiel still in his dress pants. That was just way too many clothes for what he had in mind. He put one hand behind Cas's head, dragging him down for another kiss, while the other moved to the button of his slacks. It took almost all of his concentration, but he managed to make a good accounting of himself with his kiss while getting the button undone one-handed.

A hand settled over his own, but instead of pushing him away, he pushed it into his own pants. When Dean tried to unzip the pants, Cas moved his hips back. While the friction of them rubbing together was really good, Dean groaned because he really just wanted to be naked with this beautiful man on top of him. "Patience." Cas whispered against his lips and Dean just groaned because patience had never been his strong suit. A shifting of pressure and Cas was sitting up again, smiling.

Cas slid his hand down Dean's stomach, nails down so they scratched until they dipped below the waistband. Another gentle wiggle, nails no longer leading the way, he felt along until only the tips of his fingers ran along Dean. One, two, three shaky breaths escaped Dean's mouth until he clumsily tried to do the same to Cas.

As he seemed to be the expert at this, Dean followed his lead, touching as he did and moving as he did. Every other time he'd slept with a man it had been a mad scramble to get hands and mouths all over each other as fast as they could. While that had definitely worked, this was better. He had time to look up at the man on top of him. Dean was a little disappointed that those blue eyes were closed, but he decided to look at the rest, since it was not bad at all.

For a second, Dean stopped moving. Just above Cas's right hip was a weird tattoo. It was a circle with a small triangle over it, with a few small rune looking things around it and a bigger one inside. Cas opened his eyes and cocked his head, using a more forceful thrust of his hips to remind Dean that there were important things happening.

He touched the tattoo with two fingers and asked a question with his eyes. Honestly, Dean was far too involved to talk, it would have come out breathy or as a growl. Cas dropped his shoulders and shot him a look. "Right now? Couldn't we talk about this after?" When Dean shook his head, because no, he would probably drop off to sleep too quickly, he just sighed. "It's an angel banishing sigil. Supposed to make it so no angels are about. It was a joke." He breathed a few times and then moved his hips again, earning him a few gasps, but also another point. Dean needed to know what joke. "All of us are named for angels. We all have one. Satisfied?" When Dean nodded, he nodded and then unzipped both of their pants quick enough that Dean didn't know it was happening until it was over.

He leaned over and kissed him. Dean was now pretty sure those lips were top five. Just when he was trying to decide if they could be top three, he stopped and stood. Dean just looked at him, his mind screaming for him to come back, but all that came out was a frustrated growl. And when the hell had that happened? Dean hadn't been speechless during sex since he was sixteen.

Cas just smiled and bent over Dean, placing wet kisses down his chest and stomach, distracting him from the fact that he was pulling his jeans off. He didn't notice till the air felt positively chill on areas that had been extremely hot before.

The sexiest thing that Dean had ever seen was Cas dropping his own pants and actually sauntering back to Dean. But, Dean had thought he'd seen the sexiest thing ever multiple times tonight, and then Cas would somehow top it. Maybe he should start saying sexiest thing yet?

All at once, Dean was sick of this. It was nice for a while to not be top, but Dean was not one to be commanded all that often, and he didn't want Cas to get any ideas. Before he could react, Dean sat up and propelled himself forward, tucking his arm around Cas's waist, and dragging him into the bed. This time, Dean left himself on top.

Cas just smiled and Dean decided it was time to prove that he wasn't just messing around.

He leaned forward and kissed Cas harder, taking control with his tongue and a few nibbles. Cas was mostly relaxed at the beginning, but Dean could feel his shoulders tensing and his mouth pushing him back. There was no way that Dean could let him take control without fighting for it. His tongue played over Cas's, doing his best as he slid one hand silently toward a drawer, silently pulling a bottle of lube and a foil package out. He set them near his knees, out of Cas's line of sight. Dean may not be great at much, but he was a damn good kisser, and he knew that Cas was thoroughly distracted.

A little more skill was employed by his tongue, some of it stuff he hadn't known he possessed, and he was sure he had distracted Cas enough to slip a condom on himself. He wanted to kiss Cas skillfully enough that he didn't notice what Dean's hand was doing, but also because kissing Cas seemed to be second priority, and impressing him even more important. The condom slipped on him easily, his hardness actually working with him. His breath shuddered for a second against the other man because the feeling of a hand on him, even his own, was almost too much in the context of what they were doing.

With a deft flick of his fingers, he opened the lube, managing to silence the pop it made as it opened. He coated his fingers generously. He stopped the kiss and braced himself above Cas with his dry hand. Cas breathed deeply a few times and then opened his eyes. No confusion this time, just a challenge that made Dean grin.

Dean kissed him again, being sure to roll his tongue and nibble his lip, anything to get him back into the kiss before pressing his finger in, slowly. Plenty of warning, so Cas could stop if he wanted to. Dean was satisfied that he didn't when all that happened was a small moan that he felt against his tongue. They kissed for a while, Dean breathing heavier as he worked his hand, imagining what it would feel like after they moved past fingers. When he could feel Cas moving his hips, rocking up and down too quickly for his tastes, he worked another finger in. Another satisfied half-moan came out of Cas's mouth, tasting like perfection on his tongue. When he felt that Cas was open enough, he decided to move forward.

He didn't pull back this time, just laid a small kiss on his lips and then pressed small, comparatively chaste, kisses at the corner of his lips, down his cheek, and onto his neck. When he felt Cas's pulse under his sensitized lips, he spread his mouth wide and positioned his hips, holding Cas's hips tight in his hands. One slow breath in through his nose and he bit down, hard, as he brought himself forward. His teeth were buried inside of him, as his dick was pushed into Cas. It felt better than he had imagined before.

Under him he felt Cas take in a deep breath and the release it. "Dean." He had heard it. Something about it told him that it was important and that he wanted to hear it again and again. The intensity of the emotion had him terrified. Dean had never really been comfortable with emotion, which, given his thoughts sometime in this never ending day, about needing love but being afraid, made sense. Unfortunately, his brain was not working well. It couldn't cope with how much he was feeling physically to even make sense of his emotions.

He didn't move for a second. He couldn't if he wanted to last for anything longer than a nanosecond. He licked the excess saliva from his bite and tried to think of something that would distract him from the perfect heat and pressure around him.

Apparently, he was still for too long, because Cas started to shifting his hips in the smallest movements. Dean released the death grip he had on the slim bones beneath his fingers and they became bigger movements. His breathing picked up, but not quite as quickly as Cas's. When he came, he captured Dean's mouth in his, screaming, and Dean took it into himself to hold forever, to pull strength from. Hot wetness struck his stomach and then Dean was fucking perfect. On the end of Cas's orgasm, Dean started his, returning the favor and screaming his release back into the best lips he'd ever tasted. He had decided somewhere in there, subconsciously at least, that they were the best lips on the planet, in all of time.

He smiled against Cas's lips and then reached a hand between them, holding the condom as he pulled out. No point in being clean enough to use the condom and not… remembering that it could… spill after.. when it.. came out.

His thoughts were sluggish, but Dean managed to throw the condom away in his trash and to wipe Cas down with his t-shirt. The last truly physical thing he did was throw the shirt in the corner and curl up on his bed. Finally, his body wanted to sleep and his mind was going to let him. Why it had to happen the first time he actually wanted to be awake in a long time, he couldn't tell. This was why he had done this, right? For sleep? It seemed so shallow and wrong now that he had accomplished it.

"Cas."

Now his brain had shut down that filter. He was thinking things that he didn't need to say. Or was it saying things he didn't need to think? Something like that. "Stay, please." Or, maybe he did need to say them. But he couldn't do it now. Not when his brain was finally letting it go. Letting consciousness go. "Be a while. Long while. Stay. Please." He looked over and those blue eyes were burrowing into him. "E-splain later." The eyes didn't look unhappy or frightened or any of the other emotions that could have been there and that would have made him uncomfortable. They looked trusting, and that terrified him. "Promise." He didn't know exactly what he was promising. Sleep finally took him.


	3. Chapter 3

He woke, alone, and there was brightness around the blackout curtains he had installed when he moved in. He thought he had heard voices, but before his mind could fully wake and solve the problem, Cas walked back into the room. He was dressed again, wearing his dress pants and the button up, though he was only carrying the waistcoat and tie. He smiled at Dean, probably feeling odd having been caught leaving the morning after. Dean knew it could be awkward; he'd been there himself before.

"My employer has informed me of an emergency appointment. I need to go home and shower." Cas smiled at him, but looked down after. Dean would like to think it seemed like an inconvenience he hadn't wanted. Maybe it was? Maybe he had wanted to stay with Dean, though Dean doubted it. Who wanted to spend time with the guy that fell asleep right after sex? Granted, it had been amazing sex, so he felt he should be forgiven, even if he knew nothing about the insomnia.

Maybe the alcohol had had something to do with his confidence last night, because Cas seemed a little shy, now. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling his shoes on, not really looking over at Dean. Dean was still groggy, but he threw the blankets off of him and found pajama pants on the floor. "I'll walk you to the door. Did you call a cab?" He stood and felt a little unsteady, but nothing he couldn't handle.

"Yes. I had to get the address from your roommate. Which, I was quite surprised to run into a man while going to find your house number. I had no idea you lived with someone." He looked accusingly at Dean, maybe unsure if Dean had slept around or something.

"He's my little brother."

Cas just looked thoughtful after the announcement, so Dean had no idea what he was thinking. The thoughts in his head were perfectly clear, though.

They walked along the hallway, Dean waving at Sam on the couch.

Cas had the best lips Dean had ever kissed. He had punched his ex-boyfriend five minutes before agreeing to come home with him. As far as Dean was concerned, Cas was worth a call. "Can I call you?" Cas looked a little surprised but nodded, and then rambled his number off when Dean returned from the kitchen with a pad of paper and a pen.

Dean yawned through the awkwardness that was Cas and him at the door. Seriously, what is the etiquette? He never knew if he was supposed to kiss these people that left his house. They had just had sex, so kissing seemed reasonable, but they were strangers, which made kissing weird. Cas made it a little easier when he shook his hand and smiled after seeing the cab pull up. "Just make sure you actually call me, Dean." Dean had smiled and then yawned again, opening his door while the cab drew away from the curb.

"Wanna watch a movie?" Sam gestured at the TV, but Dean shook his head.

"I'm going back to sleep." The look of surprise on his brothers face was enough to make him chuckle. "I don't know, man. I just feel like I still can." He knew that he never went back to sleep after someone left, but something about Cas had soothed him. Whatever the reason, Dean was going to take what he had been offered. He crawled back into his bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

He woke again and knew that he was truly awake. He'd trained himself to always look at the time years ago, so recalling the time from the night before was easy. It had been just after one in the morning when he fell asleep. The clock now said 3:45. And that little dot that said PM was on. He had just slept for fourteen hours. That was the longest he had slept since.. Well, just since.

He heard Sammy watching TV quietly in the living. He had slept through Sam coming home this morning. He had slept through dawn. He had slept more than five hours, even including the time that he had spent seeing Cas off. The TV had turned on without sending him into wakefulness. Why?

Instead of trying too hard to figure it out, he got up and brushed his teeth. He was sure the taste in his mouth must be toxic.

Sammy followed him into the kitchen and sat on the counter as Dean got himself a bowl of cereal. "Who was that?"

Dean gave him an odd look, because he never asked about his … bed partners. "Cas. Castiel, but Cas is easier."

Half the cereal was gone before Sammy interrupted him again. "When are you going to call him?"

"I'm not sure and why do you care?" Dean was a little bothered by the questions. Sammy never asked any questions about Dean's love life, not after that thing that neither wanted to ever talk about again. He ignored that thought, though. He wanted to feel happy and satisfied, not frustrated and depressed like that train of thought would make him.

"Dean, you never go to sleep again after they leave. Ever. And I heard you ask for his number." He smiled at that. It was true, he had already thought of that. Still, though, he didn't have to sound so excited. His brother wanted him in a relationship that was like his and Jess's. He wanted Dean to be happy and in love, he didn't care that Dean wasn't so sure that was really him. It hadn't worked so well before. Dean was nowhere near ready to start that process again, to place his sanity in someone else's hands.

"I haven't decided yet." He finished the cereal and set the bowl in the sink.

Sammy dropped off the counter and set a hand on Dean's shoulder. "If you don't call him today, I will."

To ignore the way that that made him feel, he just shot his brother a knowing look. "I always knew Jess was just a cover." The only reply to that statement was a bitch-face and a snort. Then, Sam went back to watch television. Dean had felt jealous. Why would he feel jealous? He was genuinely happy to see previous partners with new lovers, especially when they seemed happy. The idea of Cas with someone else had made him feel angry and possessive. He barely knew the guy, why the hell was he possessive already?

He could not let this get serious.

Dean got in the shower; because there was just enough stickiness on his body that he knew he needed it. His hands weren't shaky when he washed his body or when he dried off. His head felt blessedly pain-free. This was the type of morning he searched for all those nights he couldn't sleep. Actually feeling rested hadn't been expected, but he was very happy with it. Usually, he would have gotten five hours of sleep, maybe six, and woken up all at once and too completely when Cas left.

Deciding he shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, he wrapped a towel around his hips and sat on the end of his bed. His hand was curled around his phone, and in the other he held the paper with Cas's number on it. Maybe he'd just send a text.

"Hey its dean. Did ur emrgncy call wrk out?"

There. He had shown interest and an actual intent to talk to him again. Now, it was all up to Cas. He dropped his towel and started looking for clothes. He had one leg in his jeans and tripped into the bed when Carry On, My Wayward Son blared through his room. "Shit!" He grabbed the phone and answered. "Eh.. Hello?"

"Hello, Dean."


	4. Chapter 4

Shit. Cas was calling him. Apparently, he took too long to answer because Cas continued speaking. "I prefer not to text. I have to say out loud everything I type anyway, so it is just easier to call in the first place."

"Oh, alright." Weird. But… cool. "So, how'd that call go? And when did accountants start getting emergency calls?" That was odd, now that he thought about it. How could crunching numbers ever be an emergency?

Cas cleared his throat. "Um… It went well. It's not usual for them to come in." Maybe he didn't want to talk to Dean.

Dean was detecting a bit of hesitancy. "Should I let you go? It's cool. I can just call you some other time."

"No, I can talk right now."

Dean wondered why he wasn't then; conversation worked both ways. "Are you busy?" He wondered where the hell that had come from.

"No. Why?"

"Want to get coffee with me?" It rolled out of his mouth like it was planned, but inside, Dean was a little scared. It was awkward between them. Maybe meeting was a premature idea? That thought seemed odd to Dean. They'd had sex last night, but meeting for coffee today would be weird? How did that make any kind of sense?

"Yes. Where?" The rest of the conversation was spent figuring out where to meet up and when. When the call ended, Dean looked at the jeans he had managed to pull on while on the phone. He hadn't done them up, because talking to the other man had made him a little uncomfortable, but not really in a bad way. He finished dressing in a black t-shirt and looked at the time. He had to leave now to get to the coffee shop on time.

"Getting coffee with Cas." Dean didn't wait for a response from his brother, just walked out the door and to his car. When he slid into the leather seat he remembered Cas being in it the last time he drove. He looked over and smiled. Usually Sam rode there, if he had anyone in the car, but Cas had looked pretty good in it. Maybe he'd sit there again.

The drive to the coffee shop was completely uneventful. Finding a parking spot was a trial, though. A woman wasn't paying attention and almost backed into the Impala. Only a hasty press on the horn and a shouted "Fuck!" stopped it. He wasn't in the best mood when he pulled into a spot next to a silver Mini Cooper with a black stripe. It looked new. Dean didn't particularly like the car, but it wasn't awful. He realized he was distracting himself and stopped. Dean Winchester is not a teenager to get nervous over coffee with someone. He needed to start acting like it.

There were only a few people in the place when he got in line. He had been in line for just a minute when Cas turned away from the register. He was wearing another waistcoat and more slacks, though his shirt was blue today instead of the white of last night. "Hello, Dean."

Dean smiled. "Hey, Cas. Wanna find a place to sit and I'll join you after I order?" Cas nodded and then walked away while Dean stayed in line. He paid for a large decaf coffee and held the heat in his palm as he walked to the table Cas had picked. The table was one of those odd ones that were set up to end the debate between table or booth, with one half being a booth seat and the other side chairs. Cas had chosen a chair. Dean preferred booths anyway. He slid in and lounged against the window, one leg on the floor and the other across the bench.

Cas didn't have a coffee, so Dean assumed he had ordered one of those milk and espresso nightmares they actually had to make. He wondered what it was and found himself trying to figure it out. He looked like a whole milk kind of guy. Maybe extra shots? No flavors.

"What are you looking at?" Until Cas asked, Dean hadn't realized he'd been staring at his chest.

"Uh. I was just trying to figure out what you had ordered."

Cas gave him an odd look. "A large vanilla latte with whole milk and an extra shot of espresso."

"I was close, then." Another odd look and Dean had to chuckle. "I was a barista for about six months. I had it right, but I didn't think you'd be a flavor kind of guy."

"I would not have guessed." Cas looked at the table and then out the window. Dean fidgeted for a few seconds. A barista set a cup on the table and then walked away. Still, they didn't talk. Why the hell is this awkward? Seeing a man naked ten minutes after meeting him should be more awkward than meeting him for coffee the next day. Apparently, though, the universe didn't like to make sense because this was awkward as hell.

Finally, Dean gave in to the urge. "Who'd have thought this would be awkward, huh?"

Cas smiled a little, but it was off somehow. "Yes."

"Generally that means you make an effort for it to stop being awkward." It sounded rude, but Dean hadn't meant it that way.

"I lied to you." Dean just blinked. The first thing he thought of was the ex-boyfriend incident the night before and he cocked a brow. "I did not have an emergency call this morning. I saw your brother come in and thought he was your boyfriend and wanted a graceful way out of the situation. When you said he was your brother, I felt embarrassed, but did not want to admit to having lied. I'm sorry."

That surprised a laugh out of him. "It's okay. No big deal." That seemed to help, because conversation was way easier after that. Dean asked how he had become an accountant, something that he seemed to enjoy but that would have killed Dean. He finally asked something that he had been dying to know since last night. "Do all accountants wear a waistcoat on their days off?"

Cas looked down at himself as if he had never seen his body before. "No. I suppose it's just me." The way he spoke was interesting to Dean. It was different from last night. When Dean had asked about his tattoo, his sentences had been clipped and more casual sounding. Now, the guy talked like he was a proper English novel. It was kind of sexy, like he was a dirty librarian, a particular fantasy of Deans.

Thinking about that was just going to make it so he had to change position, so he forcibly turned his thoughts someplace else. Tattoos. "You never asked about my tattoo."

"I had noticed it, if you are wondering. I was just.. Distracted."

Dean had to smile at what he had been distracted with but pulled his mind away again. "It's a symbol that's supposed to protect against demon possession. Me and Sammy both have one, got them for his eighteenth."

"We both have tattoos that match our siblings' and that are based in something supernatural. That is interesting." Cas sipped his latte and then twirled the cup in his hands, his eyes never leaving Dean's face.

The fact that someone that was as strait-laced appearing as Cas – the man wore a waistcoat and tie to the bar, and only dropped the tie for coffee the next day – would have a tattoo at all was interesting to Dean. The fact that it was something as seemingly whimsical as an angel banishing charm was enthralling. Dean found himself wondering how Cas worked – what made him laugh, what made him cry, what made him through his hands up in frustration. He wanted to see how many of those things he could do and if he was interesting enough for Cas to let him.

That was not how he had expected today to go, and he decided to ignore it for now.

They talked about how Dean had become a mechanic – Bobby, of course – and why he was taking business classes. Dean carefully didn't ask questions about family, because he didn't like to talk about his. Cas didn't ask either, so maybe that was another thing in common.

Cas got another drink, hot chocolate this time. Dean got another decaf coffee. Finally, they had been talking for a few hours when a grumble and whine filled the silence as they both sipped their drinks. Dean looked down at his stomach. "I think I'm hungry."

A laugh came from across the table. "I would agree. I am, as well." He glanced at his phone. "I would invite you to dinner, but I am supposed to meet my brother in an hour."

Dean liked that. He was a little disappointed that it wouldn't happen, but that Cas wanted to was nice. He felt like he was starting something here, and he couldn't even remember when that had happened last. "It's fine. Saturday nights are bro time for me and Sammy. At least for a few hours." He didn't mention that those hours generally ended at midnight, when Sam would go to bed and he usually sat up, doing homework and watching TV and generally being unable to sleep.

"When are you free during the week?" Dean looked at Cas, wondering if he was asking to schedule dinner. Which, honestly, would be pretty cool.

"Mondays I get out of class by noon, but I work until nine afterwards. That's Wednesdays, too. Tuesdays and Thursdays I'm in class until seven. Fridays I work one to nine, generally."

Cas smiled and Dean knew his guess was right. "We should get dinner on Tuesday."

They set up a place and time to meet and when, then they both walked out the door. Cas opened the door to the Mini Cooper, which made Dean smile until he got home.

Dean and Sam decided to watch The Mummy again. They had both seen it countless times, but it didn't matter. These were what he had missed when Sam had talked him into coming to school first, instead of waiting for him. He had waited a year after graduating high school before coming to college. His intention had been to wait until Sam graduated and then they could go together. Sam had pestered him that entire year about it, demanding that Dean go. He said Dean shouldn't be waiting to start his life for his little brother. So, Dean had come to school, a freshman at nineteen.

The way things turned out, waiting for Sammy might have been smarter. He made it through his first year, but only because he kept his sleeping around and drinking confined to weekends. That summer was when John finally died, his liver destroyed by years of drinking. He came back to school in the fall and his worry over Sammy kept him awake more often. He made it through one semester, barely passing, before dropping out. He had started waking up in bathrooms he didn't recognize and at least half the time, he smelled like sex and vomit. About the only smart thing he did aside from dropping out was getting monthly STD screenings.

His grandparents, on his mother's side, were paying for his school. They said they could afford to because Sammy was going to get a scholarship, there was no question about it. Dean knew it was true, but instead of feeling jealous, he was just proud. They threatened to stop paying if he didn't go to AA. Dean refused to be a college drop-out when he saw how sad Sam had looked when he showed back up for good. So he went to the meetings. They stressed staying away from situations and placed that made him want to drink. He couldn't really do that. He drank because he couldn't sleep, that was not a situation he could avoid.

Sleeping pills were completely out of the question because he had already had a problem with them, at the beginning of the insomnia. Drinking had gotten completely out of hand. Sex with strangers was really not the best way to deal with any situation. So, Dean was left with no real way to deal with his sleeplessness.

Rick kissed Evie on screen and Dean was brought back to the world, instead of drowning in his introspection again. "Want to watch something else?" Sam yawned in the middle of the sentence and Dean had to smile.

"No. Catch some z's. I'll be fine." And he would be. He always was. He always found a way to be just fine. He didn't sleep that night, but he worked on his homework and cleaned the house up, even changing the light bulb on the porch.

The next day was spent at Bobby's, eating a dinner that Dean cooked and spending 'quality family time' together, as Jess called it. Honestly, Dean could totally see why Sam was so in love with the chick. She always came to the family dinners on Sunday, always made herself right at home. It was odd, at first. The Winchester boys had never really had a female influence before, there mother having died in a car accident when Dean was four, but Jess put herself into the roll in such a way that everyone was thankful instead of resentful.

Dean couldn't sleep Sunday night either.


	5. Chapter 5

Monday rolled around, and Dean was already in the shower when his alarm would have gone off. He dressed and grabbed his bags, then took off for his class. He spent it mindlessly sitting through an Ethics of Business lecture for three hours.

When that finally ended, Dean drove to Singer Salvage and got to work. Bobby looked at him for a few seconds before cracking a grin and pointing him to a messed up 1970 Dodge Dart. It was Bobby's new project piece. He intended to fix it up and then sell it. He did it all the time, finding a new one when the other finished and was getting ready to sell.

By the time nine rolled around, Dean had fixed the suspension on the Dart, taken catalytic converters off of three separate Buick's, and opened a pretty nasty gash on his pinky knuckle of his right hand. He spent a while in the emergency room, waiting for a doctor to finally give him his stitches so he could go home. The damn thing bled like crazy, but didn't really hurt until they cleaned it. Then, a cool nurse held the skin back and told him to move his pinky. He could see the bone and tendon moving. It was interesting, but Dean did decide he'd rather have his skin covering it.

When he was finally able to leave the hospital, Sam had already texted him for a few hours and knew that Dean was not in a good mood. When he finally lay in his bed, he was able to sleep for three hours by the time his alarm went off. He dragged himself out of bed and to his classes. Finally, seven rolled around and he could go home and get dressed. Excitement and nervousness had started working through his system as soon as he had realized it was Tuesday.

He was supposed to meet Cas at a restaurant that night at eight. Dean hadn't been nervous to go to dinner with someone in a long time, and he wondered what was so special about Cas that he was now. Maybe it was the way he had held his own and fought for power during sex. Maybe it was the way that Dean had felt comfortable enough to sleep after he had left. Maybe it was his blue eyes and the way he talked. Maybe it was the rumble that came out whenever he spoke and how he tilted his head when asking questions.

Dean was never going to get dressed if he just sat here thinking.

A pair of black jeans were clean and sitting on his dresser, so Dean decided to pull them on. They looked nice, had no holes, and fit his legs like they were made for him. He wanted to look good, so they were really the best choice anyway. He pulled a dark blue shirt on over his shoulders and wondered if he should wear a button up as well. It was chilly, so he decided to go with the dark grey button up, but rolled the sleeves up his forearms. His hair was hard to style, because he could only use his left hand for it. The other was bandaged and awkward.

It was seven forty five by the time he got into the Impala. He sped across the streets, reveling in the feeling of freedom as the Impala roared and Motorhead blasted from the speakers. Even with the speeding, he was five minutes late. The waiter showed him to the table that Cas was occupying and then left, saying he'd be back shortly.

"Hello, Dean." Dean wasn't so nervous anymore. Cas was dressed exactly as he had expected, dress pants, button up – purple this time – a dark blue tie, and a black waist coat, and he had genuinely seemed happy to see him.

"Hey. Sorry I'm late. Traffic." He couldn't exactly tell him he had taken too long primping. He had seated himself when the waiter came back for drink orders. Cas ordered an apple martini and Dean got water.

"You look tired. Why did you not get coffee?"

Dean forced half a smile. "You know, I read somewhere that saying someone looks tired is just a polite way to say they look like shit." He fiddled with the water cup when it was set in front of him. Cas was just looking at him oddly.

"You look very good, just tired. Did you not sleep well last night?" Dean was pretty sure that Cas wouldn't have asked the question if he had known, but he didn't. That's why people ask questions, really. Why the hell would Dean be surprised for it to come up now?

"Uh, no. Not really." He held up his bandaged hand so Cas could see it. Cas's eyes widened and he hoped that he had distracted him from that line of questioning. He wasn't ashamed of being an insomniac, it just was. He didn't really think that his inability to sleep like a normal person was first date material, though. He really didn't want the general reaction from Cas. Usually, people told him to just lay in bed until he fell asleep. As if he hadn't tried that already.

"What happened?"

"Catalytic converter wouldn't come off the damn muffler so I was working it up and down. Slammed my hand on a piece of cut metal and opened it to the bone. Six stitches." Cas made a sympathetic sound and then looked to the menu. Dean followed his example and finally decided on a steak.

As he was taking a sip of water, Cas set them firmly back on the ground that Dean didn't really feel like standing on. "If you did not sleep, why would you not like caffeine?" Dean was uncomfortable, and apparently Cas could tell. "I am sorry if I am prying." He looked at the table and Dean felt like a jerk.

"No, you're not prying. I just haven't drunk caffeine in years."

Cas smiled. "That must be hell being a college student. How do you manage to stay awake for class and studying?"

Inside, Dean groaned. The dude wouldn't take no for an answer. He guessed he might as well get it over with. "Really, it's not a problem. Ever. I'm an insomniac."

Cas nodded, but didn't say anything until the waiter had taken their orders. Cas had gotten a salad, which made Dean smile. He was lean and this was apparently how he did it. Eating nothing but salad sounded awful to Dean, though. When he spoke, Dean was still swallowing another drink of water. "That is unfortunate."

Dean chuckled. "One way to say it."

The waiter brought their food and they were quiet as they ate. Dean was happy because it meant he managed to not talk with his mouth full. It wasn't something that he did on purpose, he just didn't always think about it. Sam always pulled a bitch face and a half laughing, half disgusted 'Dude!'

Before things had a chance to get awkward on their own, Cas kind of forced them that way. "I have seen that sex helps you sleep. Does anything else?"

It took a few moments before Dean could do anything more than blink. This was a nice restaurant and Cas had pretty much just admitted to having a one night stand with him. Well, maybe not a one night stand. Going on a date just made it sex with a stranger, right? Dean was distracting himself and he knew it. Instead of answering the question, though, he got a bit flippant. "You just wanna know every dirty detail, don't you?"

Cas blinked a few times before a slow smile spread across his face. "I like to know exactly how sullied the waters are before I jump in."

Dean didn't really know what to say because – jump in? Cas was actually interested? Why? "Uh.. Well.. I used to drink. I don't do that so much anymore. I refuse to take sleeping pills because they're addictive and give me nightmares. So.. Sex or complete exhaustion are pretty much my only options." He felt like he had shown more of himself than he should. Maybe he should have lied, but the possibility hadn't crossed his mind until the truth was already out. Instead, he looked at the table, not wanting to see Cas' face after such a confession, airing his dirty laundry so quickly to someone he didn't know.

Cas cleared his throat and Dean fought the urge to look up. "Have you ever tried sleeping with someone, not in a sexual way?"

That surprised him enough to look up and he grimaced. "It's worked before, once." He didn't want to talk about this. The guy just had a way of pulling all the dirty things out of his past and putting them at the front of his brain.

He didn't know Cas well, but he wasn't surprised when he asked why it stopped working. "It's a sad story. If you really wanna hear, though, I can tell you. But someplace quiet, maybe? Private?"

Cas nodded and signaled for the check. There was a little confusion as both attempted to pay, but Cas solved it. "I can pay now, and you can take me out later." Dean nodded, kind of surprised he'd want to go out again. Maybe he wouldn't after this talk, which, he couldn't lie to himself, would definitely suck.

Once they left the restaurant, Dean glanced around, searching his memory. "There should be a park pretty close if you wanna walk." Cas agreed and they set off. It was silent between them, but somehow not awkward.

When they reached the park, it was different from the last time he had been there. There was a splash pad installed for children, turned off in the dark, and possibly for the season. It was October, anyway. There was also a second swing set and a newer jungle gym instead of the old.

Cas sat in a swing and Dean sat in the grass next to it. He was only there for a few seconds before he jumped up and began to pace in tight circles. "I got better for a while, the year I took off from school after high school. I had a girlfriend, Lisa, and she was practically living with me. The only time I couldn't sleep was when she stayed at home, which wasn't often.

"We'd been together about six months when she got pregnant. We decided not to tell anybody, because it can be iffy." He glanced at Cas before continuing, but he was just rocking himself back and forth on the swing, thankfully not looking at Dean.

"She ended up losing the baby by nine weeks, a few weeks before we were gonna tell people." Dean tried not to let the sound Cas made affect him, but he felt his throat grow tight. Somehow, telling someone about it made it hurt more than just thinking about it did. He cleared his throat and his voice came out mostly normal.

"I'm kind of a fuck up and can't handle life, so I started drinking pretty heavily. We started fighting all the time. We broke up pretty quickly after that." He gave a sad smile, but didn't say that the last thing Lisa had said to him was that she was glad he wouldn't get the chance to be a dad like his had been. Some things were never supposed to be talked about, to anyone. "After that, I couldn't sleep again because I was used to her being there. It hasn't really stopped since. I've gotten used to being alone again, though."

He stopped pacing, his back to Cas, refusing to see a look of pity on Cas's face. The few people that had found out about the baby had all looked at him so wrongly. He didn't want pity. He was sad about it, of course, but he was also relieved, in a sick way. What if he had screwed up his kid the way his dad had fucked over Sam and him? Dean was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't realize that Cas hadn't said anything until his knees hurt from being locked.

Finally Dean looked at Cas, wondering what his reaction really was because he was really psyching himself out. Cas was just looking at him, head tilted, eyes glinting in the starlight. "I do not know what to say. An apology is useless, because it was not something that I caused."

Dean gave a sigh. "I don't know either." He sat back down, not really wanting the night to end, but not knowing what to say.

"Do you want to sleep now?"

Now he was confused, but he smiled. "I always wanna sleep."

"Then let's go to your place."

"What?"

"Let's see if you can sleep when I share your bed." Cas said it as if it made all the sense in the world.

He couldn't really process that. "Why would you care?" It wasn't meant to say that Cas was a bad person or anything, but why should he care? They had had sex – it was amazing – but that was really it. An awkward after-dinner conversation did not mean they were anything special to each other. Even if Dean remembered thinking he had the best lips ever, he couldn't really imagine someone caring about him so quickly. He did want to see if he had only drunkenly thought about how amazing they were, though.

"You are interesting, Dean, and I like helping." He said it like it was obvious.

Dean just blinked a bit. Then another problem made itself known in his mind. "Don't you have to work in the morning?"

Cas had an answer for everything, apparently. "I own my own business. I set my own hours. If I want to go into work late tomorrow, no one will be reprimanding me."

"Wow." Now why was such an interesting and successful guy interested in a loser like Dean? Better to not dwell on that. He was curious, though. "Is running a business hard?"

He was rocking himself on the swing again, but Cas had yet to look away from his face. "Not particularly. It helps if you like numbers."

A snort came out at that. "I'm screwed."

Cas seemed interested still. "Did you not say that you were going to school for business management?"

"Yeah." Dean chuckled. "I wanna be able to take over Bobby's business when he retires."

A raised brow and a head tilt. Did the man not understand that it was distracting? "Who is Bobby?"

Dean stood up and pointed toward the restaurant. They should really be going. "He's ... my uncle. Practically raised me after some things went down when me and Sammy were young."

Cas stood from the swing and they started walking. "Is this another of those 'dirty details' you mentioned earlier?"

That made Dean laugh. "Yeah. But I don't know anything about you so you'll have to fill me in before you hear more about me."

There was silence for a while and Dean wondered if it had made Cas uncomfortable. It really wasn't fair, though. Cas now knew about a really personal thing in his past, the insomnia, and that Bobby was more than just an uncle. Dean just knew that Cas had siblings named after angels and that he ran his own business as an accountant. When he finally spoke, Dean quickly looked at him.

"My mother died when I was very young. My father was mostly absent. I was raised by my older brother Michael. Gabriel and Anabiel are my other siblings. I am the second youngest, Ana is under me. I went to college and became an accountant and I am the least interesting of my siblings. Michael is a lawyer, Gabriel is a comedian, and Ana is a tattoo artist. I recently got out of a rebound relationship with a man that I should never have been interested in. I am gay and twenty five years old."

Dean blinked a few times. "What do you do for fun?"

"Read. I do not watch television or movies all that often. I do not generally go to the bar, but I had decided it sounded interesting on Friday. I had not expected Crowley to be there, or I would not have gone that night." Cas walked, telling the details of his life like it was talk about the weather.

Dean was kind of jealous of the matter of fact manner.

"Well, I'm glad you did."

"What do you do in your leisure time, Dean?" He was looking at him now, and Dean almost tripped. He forgot how intense Cas's attention could be.

"Fix cars. Clean. Sometimes I read." They were almost to the restaurant. Dean didn't really know if he wanted Cas to come with him. It bothered him that he had opened up to the other man so easily. Only four people knew about the baby – Sam, Bobby, Jo, and now Cas. What was so special about him that made Dean want to open up? He had never been the type to disclose personal things so easily.

Sam had badgered him for days before Dean had finally come clean about why Lisa had suddenly left. He hadn't shown up to the salvage yard for weeks before Bobby had sat him down and demanded to know what had made him act like a 'damn idjit'. For months, Jo and he had been friends until one night they were sharing secrets over a bottle of tequila. It had come out only after Jo had confessed to an abortion at sixteen that she had regretted every day since.

Yet he was sharing with Cas after one night of sex, one afternoon of coffee, and one awkward dinner?

He didn't let any of his hesitancy show, though. He only asked Cas what he did in his free time, besides reading.

"Monday nights, I volunteer at the soup kitchen. Sunday afternoons are when I generally work on my pro bono projects. The rest of my leisure time, the little I have, is spent most often reading." Cas had his hands in the pockets of his trench coat, and he was looking at his feet. He wasn't sure if it was a nervous habit of his or if that was just how he liked to walk.

"You work for free? For who?" By the state of his clothes, he seemed to be pretty well off. That meant he either came from money or he was a very good accountant. Working for free lent more to the first, but that made Dean a little uncomfortable, he had always been broke, so he hoped it was the second.

Could he tell what was going through Dean's mind?

Dean doubted it; he wasn't even sure what was going on in there. He thought Cas was interesting, but far too good for him. He was a recovering alcoholic suffering from insomnia with a shitty dating record. Cas seemed to be about helping people and doing well for himself. How was he interested in Dean again?

It couldn't just be sex… He had agreed to have sex with him, obviously, before having sex… So, where the hell did Dean manage to pull this one out of?

Cas, of course, was oblivious to his inner panic attack. "The animal shelter and the First Street Church." He smiled as they entered the parking lot, like he was proud of it.

Dean may be a bit intimidated by the guy right now, but he thought that it was okay to be proud of it. He was doing a good thing; why not let it make him feel good about himself?

He knew the Church, even if he had only been there once. It was the only one Sam approved of. He said it was because it taught love instead of prejudice. It had a pole in front, right near the sidewalk, about five feet tall and a foot across. It was painted with rainbow stripes. There was a bus that picked up children and adults with no transportation, and served a free breakfast after services. Every weekend they had televised services in other languages. Few people went to them, but the church refused to cut them out. They said that it was because that every person deserved to hear of God's love, no matter the language.

For all that he approved and had followed the conversation he didn't really know how to respond to it. Instead, he just started toward his car. There were still a few cars around. Six spots down from the Impala sat a silver Mini Cooper. "Do you want to follow me?" Dean hadn't realized that he had made the decision to take Cas up on his offer until the words left his mouth.

Thankfully, Cas didn't make things awkward, just nodded and unlocked his car.


	6. Chapter 6

So so so so soooooooo sorry! I forgot I was cross posting this! So here's two to make up for it.

* * *

The Impala felt like a respite. He could feel his muscles relaxing as he gripped the steering wheel. His heartbeat slowed as he left the parking lot and started the drive toward his house. It was something about Cas, but he didn't know what. The man calmed him enough to sleep, and that was a good thing. But he also calmed him enough that Dean apparently decided it was fine to spout his secrets off. That was a really not good thing.

It didn't matter. What mattered was that there was an extremely attractive man following him, ready to sleep in a bed with him.

He needed to stop overthinking things and psyching himself out.

Cas followed pretty easily. If he hadn't, Dean would probably be a lot less attracted to him. The city was set up pretty logically, and he did not live very far from the restaurant. Also, there weren't too many black 67 Impala's driving the streets for him to confuse it with. Only an idiot could have gotten lost on that drive.

Dean still didn't know why he was doing this. It just felt like what he should do. He waited for Cas to pull into the driveway before he got out. Then, he stood awkwardly, waiting for Cas to get out of his car.

Finally, the other man was just a little too close as they moved to the door of the house. Dean was wondering if he was supposed to offer a drink or sex or something while they were here. It seemed odd to have him come over just to go to sleep. He'd never really told anyone about the insomnia; it was just something people noticed. He had no idea how he was supposed to act in these circumstances.

It was still early to go to bed, though, not quite ten thirty. He didn't have class until nine the next morning. They'd have to amuse themselves for a while.

The house was quiet, Sam apparently not being home. Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket to find a text. It had apparently been received more than an hour ago, but Dean had obviously been too involved in talking to Cas to notice. Of course, it was from Sam. "Hope the date goes well. Don't wait up, staying with Jess." Dean rolled his eyes at that. The text read like Sam was expecting the night to end like first meeting. Not that Dean would mind. At all. He just hadn't known that when he left.

Things were awkward and weird, though. Dean had no idea what to do about it. Cas was looking around like he was actually interested, and Dean was desperately trying to figure out how to entertain the man. "Uh, you want something to drink?" Cas just shook his head, completely destroying the tentative plan Dean had had to get him drunk. He hadn't really needed that the first time, though. "You wanna bang?"

Cas tilted his head and blinked. "You are very blunt, Dean."

Dean answered with a shrug and then grinned when Cas kissed him. Obviously, his bluntness was working in his favor. Cas nipped his lip and pulled back. "Don't get too full of yourself, Dean."

Of course, Dean couldn't help the response he had to that. "Why don't I make you full of me?" Cas just rolled his eyes and then walked away. Dean was confused for a second, until Cas's voice called to him from his bedroom. Then, he grinned and followed.

An hour, and yet another shower, later, Dean was starting to feel sleepy. He had given Cas a pair of blue pajama pants, which he was sporting quite low on his hips. Dean could easily see the tattoo on his hip. And the faint pink circle of marks around it. The gratifying hiss Cas had made when he had bitten down was something he would probably remember for the rest of his life.

When Dean came to stand awkwardly at the end of the bed, Cas smiled at him and grabbed his hand, not letting go until Dean was pulled down with him. They ended up on their backs for a while, before Cas's breathing evened out and deepened. Dean turned his head and watched him until he rolled to his side, away from Dean. Then, tentatively, he moved himself closer, wrapping his body around the other man. Cas just sighed and pulled Dean's hand to his hip, resting his own on top of it.

Dean fell asleep to Cas's scent mixed with the smell of his shower gel.

He woke a few times in the night, but only long enough for him or Cas to adjust to the other's new position. Cas would force Dean over onto his side and wrap himself around him. A few times, Dean fell asleep with Cas's arm around his stomach and his breath sending him back into darkness.

When he woke for good, Cas was already standing by the bed, stretching like a cat.

Things were surprisingly easy between them as Cas left for work and Dean prepared himself for classes. Dean didn't think about it too closely, afraid of seeing flaws that weren't there or getting himself worked up over something completely okay.

His class for the day, the Ethics of Business, was just as boring as it usually was, but he was better able to concentrate on his notes. When it ended, which was not nearly soon enough for Dean, he rushed out and got to Bobby's twenty minutes before he needed. He spent the extra time chatting with Bobby.

That conversation got slightly awkward really fast when Bobby asked what lady had him sleeping again. Dean blushed and started pulling on his coveralls. When the hell had he started blushing again? "Not a lady." He mumbled it as he left the house.

Bobby sighed and followed after. "I don't care if it's a man, Dean. I just have a hard time wrapping my head around it."

This was an old discussion. Bobby was not homophobic in any sense of the word. He had just come across Dean with so many girls in high school and had been prepared for Dean to settle down with Lisa for so long that he seemed to forget that Dean was not straight.

Dean smiled, digging into the engine of an old VW Bug. "It's fine, Bobby." When Bobby just stood there, behind him like an apologetic cloud, Dean turned back to him. "What?"

"Just 'cause I forget you like men sometimes doesn't mean I don't want to know about 'im, idjit."

His hands continued tinkering in the car while Dean thought. He didn't know if he and Cas were even somewhere that they could talk about each other to people. It would be really awkward for him if he talked to Bobby about him – and Dean refused to believe that it could be labeled gushing – and then things just ended the way they were. Bobby wouldn't take that for an answer, though. He would stand there all eight hours Dean was supposed to be there, every day, and at family dinner on Sunday's, until Dean finally spilled. The man had the patience of a saint. It was probably what helped him be a stand-in father for the Winchester boys.

"He's an accountant. His name is Castiel." He didn't really want to mention where they had met, because he knew Bobby didn't like his drinking. Dean thought that maybe Bobby was afraid he'd turn into his father at some point. He wouldn't lie to the man though. "I met him on Friday. At the Roadhouse."

Bobby rolled his eyes and then walked away. "Just be safe, Dean." It was thrown over his shoulder as he walked toward the Dart.

"I'm always careful." He didn't say it loud enough for Bobby to hear. Bobby would have just come back and spouted off all the times he had been less than careful and make Dean eat the words. The only ones to hear him were himself and the engine block in the Bug he was bent over.


	7. Chapter 7

The day passed more quickly than usual after his conversation with Bobby. Dean's mood never really dropped, he was happy for the whole day. That was something that hadn't happened in a long time. Obviously, he had been happy recently. It was just that there always seemed to be something that took the good mood away. None of that happened today.

When he got home, he was still happy. He lay down in his bed and the scent of Cas crawled in his nose and went straight to his brain.

Dean woke up to his alarm clock. He sat staring at it in confusion for five minutes before he realized he had to get up for class. He was still wearing his clothes from yesterday. When he finally left the house, it was in a daze. He was on autopilot all through his classes and his drive back home.

How the hell did Cas get him to sleep when he wasn't even there?

He was snapped out of it by his phone vibrating in his pocket. The name on the caller ID made him smile as he answered. "Hey, Cas."

"Hello, Dean."

"What's up?"

A second of silence before the gravelly voice came to his ears. "I had intended to surprise you at your home and bring you to dinner tonight."

Dean blinked a few times, waiting for him to continue. When he didn't, he prompted the other man. "But?"

"My sister has come to town and wishes to go out. She has chosen the Roadhouse. I was wondering if you would like to come with us?"

"Ana, right?"

"Yes. I understand if you are unable to come."

"No, I can. I just have to work at one tomorrow. Did you want me to meet you down there?" Dean didn't usually do this. His nights at the bar tended to be weeks apart, not just one. He didn't want to say no, though. Even if he was a little apprehensive of the effect Cas seemed to have on him.

"We will be in the parking lot at nine o clock." The line went dead. Apparently Cas wasn't one for goodbyes. Dean shrugged and then looked at the clock. It was quarter to eight, and if Dean wanted to look presentable for tonight, he had to get in the shower right now.

A text was sent to Sam first, though. "Hey bro. Cas invited me out. Idk when I'll be back."

Dean spent almost too much time working to get the grease and oil out of the creases of his hands. Usually it wasn't a problem, but Bobby had run out of Gojo earlier in the day. By the time he was finished, there was still stubborn lines of black under his fingernails and he had to skip washing his hair if he wanted to meet Cas and Ana on time.

He threw on the jeans he had worn for their date and black tank. His black leather boots were on his feet when he dashed out of the house. One the cold air hit him, he went back inside and grabbed his green leather jacket.

The mirror on the living room wall caught his eye. He looked like a badass. He gave his charming smile and then stepped outside, sure that he could keep Cas interested if it was just about looks. The rest was still a little beyond him at the moment, but he could maybe figure things out.

His Impala pulled into the Roadhouse's parking lot with five minutes to spare. Dean was hoping to make a better impression than being late to the date had given Cas. His plan was derailed a bit when he walked to the front of the building.

Cas was in conversation with a petite redhead. She had flip-flops and a pair of black shorts on, which was odd considering the cool October air. Her chest was completely covered by a sleeveless white, kind of frilly button up. Her hair curled around her shoulders, and Dean had no problem seeing the tattoo artist thing.

Her shoulders were dripping with a jungle motif. Flowers and vines trailed down her arms, ending in blue orchids on the back of her hands.

If he were sure that he was completely single, and she weren't Cas's sister – at least he assumed this was Ana – he would probably try really hard to pick her up.

It was her companion that really had him staring, though.

He didn't know what had changed, but he thought it might be Ana's influence. Cas seemed so comfortable in slacks that Dean had thought that he probably didn't own a pair of jeans.

Dean wasn't sure he'd ever been so happy to be wrong before.

Dark blue jeans were just loose enough to be attractive on Cas's legs. They seemed almost tailored to the man, though, because Dean found himself staring at his ass. When he pulled his eyes away, though, he was not sorry about it. He had a tight white t-shirt on. His hands were shoved into his pockets and he was hunched over like he was cold.

Part of him wanted to offer his jacket to him. One, it would stop the discomfort of being cold. Two, it would mark him as Dean's. Dean wasn't sure they were even a thing though, so he wasn't sure how it would be accepted.

The other part of him wanted to make it illegal for him to put his usual clothes on.

Of course, Dean had seen him naked before, so wasn't exactly surprised but the body that was shown. It was just that this style of clothes made it seem… something extra.

Dean shook his head and then put his smile on. If they had already seen him it would be awkward to just stand and stare. If they hadn't seen him, they'd just think he was late.

When he finally walked up to them, he found his eyes glued to Castiel. "Hey!" Too much excitement, Dean, tone it down. He wanted to smack himself in the face after that. However, he managed to keep his smile glued on and not salivate all over Cas.

All in all, it was good work and he mentally patted himself on the back.

Then Cas smiled at him, and he didn't regret his over-enthusiasm so much.

"Hello, Dean. This is my sister, Ana." Ana smiled at him in a distant kind of way. She didn't look like she was all that interested in the proceedings. Dean didn't really care, because Cas looked happy to see him.

Maybe he was in too deep?

He pushed the thought away when Cas's hand touched the small of his back.

When they got into the club, she immediately walked to the bar, getting a vodka and tonic. She drank it like a champion, making Dean clap her on the back.

Cas, though, he was something else. He ordered four shots, two for himself and two for Dean. It was vodka, not Dean's preferred liquor but he wouldn't turn it down. He was side-tracked watching Cas down them with barely a breath between. Cas tilted his head with a half-smile and asked if he was going to drink or stare. Dean drank to cover the stare.

When had he gotten so awkward? Ana came off the dance floor and dragged Cas on. Cas dragged Dean along with another drink.

The night passed in a blur. The only part he really remembered was when Cas went to the bathroom. Ana took the opportunity to interrogate him on everything from his pedigree to his sexual history to his intentions toward Cas. He had dodged questions about his family, and just blinked when she asked about his history. She had no right to the knowledge.

He was stumped when she asked about Cas, though.

Dean had no idea what he wanted from the man. The thought preoccupied his drunken mind because he kept getting distracted from the physical things he wanted. Images of Cas smiling were overlaid by images of his body, naked and just a little sweat-slick. He wanted him to help him sleep, but he wanted him to stay outside of the walls around his heart, too. He didn't think Cas was the type of guy to be satisfied with that, though.

He saw Cas coming back and just looked at Ana. "I don't know."

Ana raised a brow and practically sneered at him. "Then why do you think you deserve anything from him?"


	8. Chapter 8

The words hit him in the stomach and soured. They were like toxic sludge, taking over every part of his body. Why would he think he deserved anything from Cas? The guy was obviously completely out of his league. His sister asked about family in such a way that let Dean know that theirs had been pretty rich and high class. Dean was the son of a dead woman and a now-dead alcoholic father. Cas had done a semester at Cambridge fucking University and had graduated from Brown at twenty one. Dean was a sophomore at 22 in a shitty state college.

How the hell did Dean think he deserved anything at all from a man that did charity work for fun?

He put a smile back on, though, and walked them out of the club. His drunkenness had passed and he was ready to drive himself home. Maybe lose Cas's number and never answer his phone again. Dean didn't want to feel inferior anymore.

Cas leaned in. His stubble grazed Dean's cheek as his words played in his ear. "Ana's staying at a hotel. You should come home with me."

Dean raised his brow and gave a smile. "Maybe I will." Why not get one more night? He could leave in the morning and Cas could think he was a dick and move on to someone that deserved him. Sounded like a decent ending to Dean.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he only vaguely remembered following Cas's directions to his house. It was in a gated community, for fuck's sake. Oh, yeah. Dean was in way out of his league.

There was legitimate art on the walls and color coordinated furniture. Not that he got a good look, because as soon as Cas had pulled his shoes off, he was attached by the mouth to Dean.

Dean threw himself into it. He didn't want to think about how unworthy he was. He didn't want to feel insecure anymore, and so he pushed himself. He buried himself in physical sensation, trying to turn his brain off.

When it was over, they cleaned themselves and Cas curled up in his bed. Dean lay with him, and ended up staring at the ceiling. The noises he could hear in the background were not ones that he knew and so they set him on edge. The scent of Cas was familiar, but everything else wasn't.

The fact that Cas's scent had become familiar to him stuck in his mind along with Ana's question. It had been just less than a week since they had met. Yet Dean spent all of his time thinking about Cas and spent as much time with him as he could.

_"Then why do you think you deserve anything from him?"_

She was right. Cas was so much better than a fuck up college student with sleep issues and a sad backstory. Dean knew that he should get up and leave and never look back. He turned, though, and looked at Cas. He was on his back, and the profile of his face was subtly lit by a light outside his window. He had some kind of hold on Dean, an ability to calm his mind when it raced through the day and refused his rest. He gave without asking for anything.

Maybe that was why Dean didn't deserve him. Dean felt like he was always selfish and asking for more than he should. If he kept asking and Cas kept giving, eventually he'd fade away and Dean would be the asshole that took everything he could give.

His restless mind prevented him from sleeping until four in the morning. Dean decided to get up when he saw the red numbers reflecting at him. He resisted the urge to leave a kiss on his forehead. He even managed to stop himself from leaving a note.

It was five in the morning before he made it home. He spent the rest of the night working on homework and wondering what Cas would think when he woke.

Ten in the morning came with a phone call. Dean ignored it. The voicemail afterward made him want to call him back, but he held himself from it.

Hello, Dean. This is Castiel. I assume you had trouble sleeping at my home. I'm not surprised, to be honest. Please call me at your earliest convenience.

Dean went to work with the words playing in his mind. He had trouble concentrating because he kept thinking that Cas hadn't gotten it yet. Cas didn't realize he was too good for someone like Dean. He would need to be the strong one, the one that ended things without Cas walking around like a shell.

Bobby gave him sideways look when he kept cursing at tires that didn't want to come off and engines that refused to come out.

Another voicemail was waiting for him when he clocked out.

Hello, Dean. I know that you are probably busy. I wanted to invite you to a movie? I know you like to watch them and I was wondering if you wanted to attend one with me? It would be up to you, because I have no idea what is interesting when it comes to modern theatre. Call me.

He didn't sleep Friday night.

Saturday morning, Sam finally woke up around noon. Dean greeted him when he walked in the kitchen for coffee. "You wanna catch a movie?"

Sam gave him a sideways glance. "You're not busy with Cas?"

Dean filled a glass with water, keeping his back to Sam and his voice light when he answered. "Nah. Haven't spent enough time with my baby brother."

When he finally turned, a smile fixed to his face, Sam had a questioning look in his eyes. Dean knew that he needed to stop this train of thought before it got too far. "How're you and Jess?"

At the mention of his girlfriend, Sam's face cleared. He smiled and started talking about the blonde. She was finishing her program for nursing this spring and was excited. She had started dropping hints that Sam should get more serious. He wanted advice from his big brother.

Sam was growing up. He was ready to be serious and eternal with her. Why would he want advice from him? Dean was a completely unsuccessful man that had never managed to keep a serious relationship. "If you love her, you'll figure it out. Do what feels right."

Dean couldn't really help that the advice sounded like it came from a woman's magazine. It was the only thing he had that was actually what Sam would want to hear. He knew that if he were in the same situation, he'd run the other way faster than he could even say the word goodbye. Not that he would.

The theatre was cold and smelled vaguely of disinfectant, with an undertone of vomit. It was obviously not the classiest of theatres, but it was a favorite of the brothers. They settled in well before the movie actually started. They joked over popcorn and were general nuisances, but they were the only ones inside so it didn't matter.

The movie was completely lost to on Dean. His mind was focused on when his phone would vibrate in his pocket. He knew without looking that it had to be Cas. He knew that Cas was probably beginning to understand that Dean wasn't just busy. The messages would eventually stop. Dean would go back to sleepless nights and then exhaustion, his days passing in a jittery blur. Cas would find someone that was worthy.

Cas just didn't know it yet.


	9. Chapter 9

A week passed, then two. The messages on his phone becoming less frequent and more pointed before disappearing completely. Dean gave up even listening to them, because they set his mind to racing and made it impossible to sleep.

Bobby was back to giving him glares over car parts and sending him home. Dean had gone to a few bars, never the Roadhouse. He'd even managed to get two women interested – men made him wish for a slim build and an angel sigil. Both times, though, he feigned a call from Sammy proclaiming emergencies. Something made him unwilling to fall into bed with these strangers.

Maybe it was that he could still detect the scent of Cas on his pillow, and didn't want it overridden with too much perfume. Maybe it was that he was craving hipbones and angular sleepiness, not curves and soft flirtations. Maybe it was that he was so far in over his head that he had no explanations.

Who knew?

It had been four days since the last deleted message when Dean pulled up to his house after class. He was absorbed in the song on the radio and so missed it until he had completely stopped and the song ended. He opened his door and then looked over. A silver mini cooper was parked across the street.

His heart started racing, and he felt his hands start to shake. He couldn't do this right now. In the last three weeks since he had seen Cas, he had slept so little his brain was sluggish and prone to exaggeration.

Instead of reacting in any solid way, he laid his arms on the hood of the car then rested his head atop them. For some reason, he had convinced himself that Cas would just let himself be faded out.

The car across the street said otherwise. And, honestly, Dean should have known it wouldn't be that simple.

Dean felt his muscles bunching in his shoulders and his stomach clenching. This was bound to go in a way that he didn't really want.  
He felt as if he had been in that position forever, waiting for the axe to fall, when he finally heard a car door slam shut. It was followed by the sound of a car starting, though, and he looked up in confusion. The silver Mini Cooper was driving down the road, away from him.

Relief set in with a painful twist of his gut. Maybe it was actually guilt, but he didn't really want to think of that. It had to be relief. Now, Cas would definitely know that it wasn't going to work out.

Exhaustion claimed him that night. He curled in his bed and felt blackness envelope him. He dreamed of Lisa. He remembered the frantic phone call that had him rushing home to bring her to the hospital. She was screaming in pain in the seat beside him, holding her stomach. Doctors rushed out of the building, grabbing her out and he stayed stuck in his seat, staring at the blood pooling in hers and hearing her screams echoing out of the hospital. It was like moving through quicksand when he started after her. Her screams stopped and she was standing in the middle of a room, no doctors to be seen. Her hands were covered in blood and so was the floor beneath her.

A baby sat beside her. It was perfect, beautiful and peaceful looking. A doctor picked it up and carried it away, not even looking at Lisa. Dean couldn't get there fast enough to get the baby back. Instead, Lisa screamed at him and then pushed him down the stairs that had appeared behind him.

With a gasp, Dean flung himself out of bed. The phantom sensation of blood on his arms sent him into the shower, still shaking. Why did he have to relive the worst day of his life?

It wasn't how it had happened. There was no way to calm the thoughts besides to go over them again. Relive them the way they had really played out. Dean shuddered and then leaned against the wall of the shower. The water was cooling, but he was so caught in these memories that he couldn't bring himself to care.

He had been working with Bobby, wondering if he would be happy when he told him about the baby in a few weeks. His phone had gone off, and even though Bobby had rolled his eyes, Dean had answered. Seeing Lisa's name on the display had suddenly seemed very bad. She hadn't said anything but that he needed to come home right away.

Bobby hadn't even let him say anything, just rushed him out of the yard with his coveralls still on. Dean had gotten home to find Lisa crying in the living room, curled in a ball on the couch. He had picked her up and carried her to the Impala, whispering in her ear that everything would be okay and that he was there for her.

She hadn't screamed on the way to the hospital, just leaned against the window and cried quietly. Every now and then, she'd suck in her breath and force herself back, straining on the seat and her hands white-knuckled on her thighs. It would pass and then she would go back to looking out the window, tears steadily dripping off her chin.

Dean hadn't known what to do, had just sat silently, looking at her every few seconds. The feeling in his stomach let him know that this was bad, very bad.

He had pulled up to the hospital and rushed in, asking for a wheelchair or anything because his pregnant girlfriend was crying and in pain. The nurses had rushed out and rushed to get Lisa into a wheelchair. When asked how far along she was, Dean had said it was about nine weeks. The nurse had refused to look him in the eyes after that.

It hadn't been long before a doctor came to give Lisa pain killers in her IV. When she had protested, saying they were bad for the baby, the doctor had sat down. Dean didn't really hear him say anything, had just gotten lost in the sympathetic look he was giving. He hadn't snapped back to reality until a heartbreaking sob escaped from Lisa.

When he'd finally gotten his head on straight enough to realize that Lisa would need things for an overnight stay in the hospital, he had driven home. In the seat next to him, there was the tiniest streak of blood. When he got home, he sat in his car for twenty minutes, staring into space. His baby was dead, had never had a chance.

When Sam made it home that night, Dean had managed to drop clothes off for Lisa before sitting at the kitchen table with a fifth of whiskey. He pretty much stayed drunk at that point, except when working for Bobby. Lisa had stayed at her mother's for a few days. Dean was distant and she was sad. Things fell apart, days of fighting building to one epic night. He had already polished off a six pack of beer before Lisa started gathering her things. When he had asked where she was going, she had turned around.

"I'm leaving. I can't be with you anymore." She didn't look him in the eyes, just stood there, looking kind of broken.

Dean had reacted with anger, his first defense against everything. "Why? I didn't do anything wrong!"

Lisa took a deep breath before answering him. "You did, though. You weren't there for me. You shut yourself away and then left me to deal with it on my own. Dean, I lost my baby. I lost my baby and then I lost you."

"I lost the baby, too, Lisa! I lost it and there's no way to make it better!" He threw something against the wall, he didn't remember picking anything up or what it was. It didn't matter, though. Lisa finally lost her cool.

"You can't make it better! You can't make anything better! I'm glad I'm not having a baby with you anymore! You won't have a chance to be the same father your dad was." She grabbed her bag and walked out of the door while Dean just sat there. He had nothing left to say. She had just destroyed the tenuous hold on his sanity that he had had.

The ice cold water shook him from his memories. When he finally stepped out, his teeth were chattering. He dried himself and slipped into pajama pants, then stripped his bed. It smelled like sweat.

He dropped his pillow case in the washer, convincing himself that the scent he still picked up was now only in his head. Cas's smell wouldn't still be on his pillow three weeks after he had last touched it.


	10. Chapter 10

Dean made no pretense to being productive that night. He sat on the couch, staring at the wall, hearing a steady ticking that must be from the clock on the wall. He didn't care enough to get up and check or even to throw it against a wall to shut it up. He sat and wondered when his life had gotten so out of control.

He thought about Cas. The way he had instantly fallen into helping Dean sleep, not bothering to question what it would mean for him. Dean got angry at him. He just made himself a spot to fill in his life and then he let Dean push him out. Even if it had been him on the street earlier, he hadn't done anything. He hadn't fought to be let back in. Seemed perfectly fine with leaving that hole unfilled, aching.

The direction of his thoughts had him shaking again. He didn't even want him to be there, but he was angry that he was gone?

He made himself a pot of coffee. Decaf, of course. It was scalding hot when it splashed over the edge of the pot and onto his skin. The pain did funny things to his head. The next thing he knew, he was holding a broken coffee pot and the sink was full of broken glass and hot coffee. Seeing his anger had exploded out of him without his knowing just made him angrier. He picked up the rest of the machine, the part that had done nothing to him, and he threw it into the sink as hard as he could. Something cracked and weird sounds came from it. It wouldn't work again, most likely.

This was why Cas needed to be gone. Dean had no control over anything about himself. His anger was volatile and convulsive. His depression was all consuming. He couldn't even get himself to sleep. Cas deserved better.

Sam would want coffee when he woke. There was still an hour before he'd be up for class. Dean threw on clothes and headed to the store, looking for a cheap machine that looked the same, so maybe Sam wouldn't know. He hadn't left his room, so maybe he wasn't even there? Dean could only hope he wouldn't get that sympathetic puppy dog look from his brother.

When he arrived home, with a new coffee pot that looked nothing like the other, the old one was in the trash and the shower was going. So much for Sam not noticing. Dean plugged the new machine in and got his brother's coffee going before grabbing his backpack.

After forcing himself through his classes, feeling jittery and half pissed off, he arrived home just in time to see Sam and Jess leaving for a date. He faked a smile through the small talk and then pled homework and tucked himself inside. Sam hadn't asked about the coffee pot and Jess hadn't said anything about Cas. All he could say was that he hoped things were finally turning around.

He really thought they might be until he remembered to get his sheets out of the dryer. They weren't warm and were a little wrinkly, but he really didn't care. Dean managed to prevent himself from breathing in the scent of his pillows, knowing it would only smell like the fabric softener, not the subtle spice and soap he wanted it to.

The fitted sheet was on the mattress and he was struggling to put his pillows in their cases when the doorbell rang. Dean stopped, wondering who could be at his house. Sam was gone, and he really only hung out with Jess anyway. Bobby wouldn't knock and neither would Jo. He set the pillow down and walked to the door. What he saw through the peephole made him wish he hadn't decided to blast his music.

Cas was standing on the other side of the door.

Cas.

On the other side of the door.

He was here, where Dean was sure he'd never be again.

For a moment, Dean thought he could get away from the situation by going about his business and pretending he'd never heard the bell. But just before he made up his mind to do it, he saw Cas lean close to the door, looking through the peephole. "I can see you, Dean."

Dean swore and then opened the door. He didn't say anything, just walked away long enough to turn down his music. It was fitting that Alice Cooper's Poison would come on as he turned around to look at Cas.

"What are you doing here, Cas?" He'd meant to sound angry, but he just sounded tired. Maybe Cas would only think it was because he wasn't sleeping? Dean could hope. The other man looked tired, too. His hair was even messier than usual, like he'd been running his hands through it. His tie was off center and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He wasn't wearing a coat, even though it was pretty cold outside. He looked amazing and Dean didn't want to think about it at all.

Cas just raised a brow. "Why did you ignore me?" Apparently he wasn't the one to be interrogated.

Dean wanted to tell him the truth. He didn't know what he wanted from Cas and he didn't think he deserved anything. He wanted to lie and say anything that would just make him go away. He didn't want him, he didn't have time, he didn't like him. Anything. In the end, though, he had no idea what to say. "It doesn't matter."

"On the contrary, Dean, it matters quite a bit." He threw his hands up and then put on hand on his hip and the other through his hair. "I thought I was explicit in my desire for more than a fling with you. You seemed to have no problem with it, and then you left me in the middle of the night. You wouldn't return my calls. What did I do to you? Sam says that you haven't spoken of me to him and that you have stopped sleeping. Did Ana say something?"

He could only swallow and look down. The anger crackling in those blue eyes just made him feel worse. "You didn't do anything. And it wasn't Ana." A part of him wanted to say that it was, but he couldn't seem to make the words come out.

"Then why leave?" Cas's jaw was clenched and he just kept looking angrier. It only made Dean feel worse. And when he felt bad, he tended to react with anger.

"Because I don't want to care about you!" He yelled the words, screamed them into his home and at the other man.


	11. Chapter 11

You guys! You make me feel so loved. So here's another chapter.

* * *

Dean had a split second, hoping to see the anger diffuse and Cas leave, but that wasn't what he got. Instead, a searing pain in his jaw blossomed as Cas used the right hook that had first drawn Dean's attention. He didn't say anything, just breathed deeply, over and over, too fast, staring at Dean.

He felt out of control. He grabbed the shoulders of Cas's shirt and slammed him into the wall. Cas just looked at him defiantly before speaking. "You let me get just close enough to see that I could really care about you. Then you walked away. And you did it because you don't want to care about me? Well, fuck you."

For a second Dean clenched his hands tighter, feeling skin under his fists. Maybe there'd be bruises in the morning. Part of him wanted it to be true, to leave some mark on this man that he didn't deserve. The other part wanted to wipe them away, leave no evidence of his presence. "I don't want to care about you because I'll break you just like I break everyone that I care about. Lisa left. My dad died. Bobby is busting his ass to give me a company to inherit instead of living his life. Sam tiptoes around me and looks sad, always worried about how he's disappointing me. I can't take that from you." It had started out strong, but he was almost whispering by the time he finished. It wasn't worth it. Cas was going to hate him, like he should, no matter what he did. It would be better if he just left and let them both move on. Dean let go and walked toward his bedroom, the first notes of Hurricane by Theory of a Dead Man playing through the house.

He didn't want to look at Cas, didn't want to see how he felt. The anger could be enough to pull him out, leave Dean on his own the way he should be. This way he couldn't hurt anyone.

Instead, he sat on his bed and saw Cas walk in the room. He pushed Dean's shoulders into the bed and then straddled him. He got close to his face and then kissed him. Dean was completely confused by the action and so just sat there. When Cas pulled away, he had a lot to say. "Boo hoo. Poor Dean, he had such a hard time with life. He can't bear to take a chance on being happy because it just might end badly." Dean got angry and wanted to push him off, but Cas was surprisingly strong. He held on long enough for him to stop struggling and then continued. "That really sucks, but it's not a good way to conduct your life, Dean. Everyone gets hurt. Everyone has had bad things happen to them. My mom died when I was young and my dad never wanted anything to do with his family. My sister and brothers are all that I have and I barely get along with them. I'm still here, willing to take a chance on you."

This wasn't what he wanted to hear. He wanted Cas to leave him alone, so he could wallow in his misery. He didn't want him to call him out on the selfishness of it. "You don't know everything I've been through." Dean looked away but stopped trying to get Cas off of him. The words sounded weak.

Cas's hand slipped from his shoulder to under Dean's chin. He pushed firmly until Dean had no choice but to look back up. "No, I don't. But I want to, Dean."

He wanted to give in. He really did. Even after he realized giving in right now wouldn't mean everything would work out perfectly. It could end in flames and pain and him being more broken than he had been after Lisa left, because there was something about Cas that Dean knew instinctively could get down to his soul. He could get in completely and wouldn't be stopped by the same walls that everyone else was. Dean wasn't even sure there was any wall he could build that Cas wouldn't patiently tear down.

It didn't mean that he would instantly start thinking he was good enough for Cas, that he'd never doubt them again.

"Why?" He asked. But he couldn't let it go that easily. He pulled Cas into a kiss, hard and forceful. When Cas started to relax into it, he twisted them into a different position with himself on top. "Why do you want to know anything about me?" He pushed his fingers into the holes between buttons on Cas's shirt and yanked as hard as he could, ripping the buttons off the garment. Cas took a deep breath, but didn't speak. As Dean got the tie off of him, he asked another question. "Why do you want to care?"

Cas used the same barely contained violence on him. He jerked at Dean's jeans, pushing them down with his underwear to the middle of his thighs. "Because I could see myself loving you." Before Dean could respond, though, he pushed his mouth onto his, pulling at his own dress pants. Dean couldn't remember when his shoes had come off, but only socked feet touched his sides.

Neither of them were completely out of their clothes, only enough for things to go ways Dean didn't think they'd ever go again. Heavy breathing was coming from both of them as Dean scrambled to spread lube as fast as he could and pull a condom on.

He wasn't nice. He didn't give Cas time to adjust to anything more than the idea, just pressed himself in. Around him, he felt Cas clenching. Cas let a deep breath go and then looked Dean in the eyes. "I could see you loving me, too." Then he started to move and Dean closed his eyes, caught between hoping it was true and wanting to ignore the magnitude of his capitulation.

Dean just hoped this would end better than he thought. Cause he could see himself loving Cas, and it would be nice if one thing in his life didn't end in disaster.


	12. Chapter 12

Orgasm came with nothing more than a shuddering sigh for Dean. He relaxed his body, leaning onto Cas, trying to figure out if he was going to cry or if he was still angry. Cas waited patiently, rubbing his back and holding as tightly as their half-dressed state allowed.

When Dean finally calmed, he wrapped his arms around Cas, picking him up just to get his arms underneath the other man. He pressed his face into his chest, breathing in the scent on his skin. Sweat and spice and something so basic to Cas that it made Dean's heart clench. Words started leaving his mouth with no thought on his end. They just poured out of him, unconnected to the current moment but so needed. They relieved a pressure in him.

"My mom died in a car accident. My dad held it together for a few years. Then he started drinking more and more, spending less time sober. He drank and he drank, and me and Sam were alone. I was making breakfast and doing my best to make sure Sam had everything he needed. I forged Dad's signature on school forms so Sammy could go on field trips and join clubs. Bobby finally stepped in when he came over and saw Dad passed out on the couch. I'd burned myself on the stove trying to make dinner. It was pretty bad. I still have the scar. Bobby started coming over all the time, helping with homework and taking us to dinner, always leaving Dad on the couch. I don't think he cared about Dad anymore.

"He tried everything he could to get me to sleep when it started to be a problem. I don't think he ever forgave himself for starting me drinking. He gave me a beer that sent me to sleep when I was sixteen. That was when I started stealing liquor from Dad just so I could sleep. I justified it by saying he didn't need it." Dean was surprised when he felt wetness under him. Cas had felt him crying and wasn't reacting, allowing Dean the time to be weak without calling it out. Dean was thankful for it.

"I didn't want to go to college without Sammy, because I was afraid of leaving him alone with Dad. I was afraid he would fall into things like I was. I saw what drinking had done to Dad but I told myself that it was different for me because I was doing it because I needed it to sleep. I think I knew how fucked up it was and that was why I didn't want Sam doing it."

Cas shifted and turned Dean around, pushing and pulling until they were both naked and stomach to back, Dean inside and curled into a ball, with no memory of when the condom had come off. He was still crying, wondering what exactly had started it. He thought he'd been done with crying years ago, but apparently that wasn't the case.

"Lisa was perfect. She joked with me and she was pretty. We hadn't even talked about forever before the baby. Cas, I'm so fucked up. I was almost relieved when she lost the baby, even if I was hurt."

Cas just held him tighter. "You're not fucked up, Dean."

"I am, though." Dean clenched himself tighter, hugging his knees and realizing he didn't deserve the comfort of a presence behind him, much less the presence being Cas. "I've wanted you to leave because Ana asked why I thought I deserved anything from you. I don't deserve anything from you. I really don't."

He had stopped crying, but he refused to look at Cas.

"Ana shouldn't have said anything." He was silent after saying it. It was long enough that Dean was feeling peaceful enough to sleep, still planning on pushing Cas out when he left. "I don't tell people, but I feel like you need to know. I had a problem with pills when I was at Cambridge. That's why I only did a semester instead of finishing my degree like I planned. I bet Ana didn't tell you that I failed that semester and that I spent that summer in rehab."

Dean stilled, pushing his thoughts out just to hear what Cas had to say.

"You saw Crowley, the night we met. I told you he was a rebound. Well, he was actually better than the guy before. His name was Jack. I met him at Cambridge, another international student. I was so involved with the pills that I didn't notice everything he did. We met again after rehab, when I started at Brown. Straight A student, perfect attendance. Everything most other students hate. He didn't, though, and I liked it."

A shuddering breath left him, like he hadn't reached the bad parts and was afraid. Dean turned until they were face to face, but Cas turned away. He sat up, his back to Dean. "Jack didn't like the idea of my having more money or influence. I cut off my family because I thought he was everything I would ever need and that was what he wanted. We moved in together, living off of what he had from his family. Financially, we were fine. We were even adequate as a relationship, for a few months. Then he started bringing other men home, and women. He'd fuck them in front of me then tell me that I was nothing. That I was the worst sex he'd ever had and that I was worthless. I believed him. I stopped eating when he told me I had gotten fat. I dropped far below healthy weight before we were finished."

A sixth sense, or something else, told Dean that he still hadn't reached the worst parts yet. He already ached to tell Cas he was perfect as he was.

Cas took a few breaths and fidgeted. Finally, Dean couldn't take it anymore. He stood and walked to his dresser, pulling out two pairs of pajama pants and handing one to Cas. When Cas looked confused, Dean just nodded his head toward the door and told him to trust him.

After pulling on the pajama pants, both men left the room, after Dean reached in his bedside table. Cas followed Dean out of the back door, looking confused at the fading light around them. The sky was lit up with red and purple, but the beauty was lost on them. They were so caught up in the pain between them that the beauty of the natural world was nothing.


	13. Chapter 13

Dean pulled a cigarette out of the pack in his hand and handed it to Cas. He looked confused for a second and then put it to his mouth as Dean pulled another out. He had placed it in his lips before he started the lighter. When he lit it and held it under Cas's cigarette, he pushed his own into the flame, so both were started at the same time. He ignored the high school mutterings of tying destiny together with the same lighting and turned his attention to the other man.

He was smoking as if he had been doing it all his life. The chances of the man being twenty five and never smoking were slim, but Dean liked to think that it was his first. He took it like a champ, though.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Cas took up his thread again. When it happened, though, it was almost as if he had never stopped. "Jack never hit me. He made me feel worthless, though. Everything I ever told him was brought up to make me feel like shit."

Cas pulled a deep drag in and then held it before letting it go. Dean didn't know what to say, but apparently, Cas didn't need him to. "You've made yourself feel like that. But I didn't have a choice in the matter. He took everything, my insecurity over my looks, my feeling disconnected; he made it all into my fault. I don't know that I've ever recovered from that. It's always there, sitting at the back of my mind. The worst that Crowley did was to tell me what to do. I could have had a good relationship with him, if I were willing to listen to another person that way."

Dean wanted to tell him how sorry he was that he had to go through that, but he just kept sucking smoke into his lungs, finishing his cigarette when Cas still had half of his left. He lit another cigarette before Cas continued.

"I didn't do anything about what you were doing because that kept playing through my mind. I thought you didn't want me because of how horrible of a person I was. I let it go so long because of that, but I know that I should have hunted you down that day. The day after you left."

Dean felt like shit. He shouldn't have left things the way he did. A part of him wished he hadn't answered the door, though. Seeing Cas in this way had destroyed this illusion he had had of him. And he had had enough illusions broken that it was more painful that it should have been. While he had been thinking how much better off Cas would be, Cas had been thinking how he must have fucked up somehow to have another person walk out on him. It made his heart break.

This broken illusion calmed him, though. The past that he was pulling out of himself was somehow beautiful. Maybe because it showed that he was broken, too. That he wasn't so far above Dean that he didn't have any hope of being anything he needed. Maybe Dean wasn't crazy for being so scared, because being scared of it told him it meant something.

There was silence for long enough for both of them to finish their cigarettes. Then, Cas took a deep breath and then chuckled. "You left because you thought I was so much better than you, but, Dean, you're so much better than me."

"What?" Dean hadn't gotten that at all.

"You pushed yourself into doing everything because you were thinking of everyone but you. You did everything for Sam, left me because you thought it was best for me. Everything I've ever done, the charity work, the pills, it was all because I wanted to forget how awful of a person I was. Selfish reasons were why I did what I did. You had selfless reasons. That's better. You're better than me. I couldn't even let you go when you did the one selfish thing in your life."

He had no idea what to say to that. Sam had taught him that sometimes it isn't what you say but what you do. Dean took that advice and put his arm around the other man, pulling him closer. Cas resisted for a moment, but finally sank into it.

They sat there for the rest of the sunset, each absorbed in their own thoughts.

Dean wondered if he were so broken that he could never work things out with Cas. Was he so caught up in the past and his pains that he couldn't understand what being close to someone again meant to Cas? There was something about Cas that made Dean think of perfection. It seemed it didn't matter how much effort he put into it, how many times it whirled through his brain, there was something bright and perfect about Cas that even his past hadn't sullied.

Maybe he was sick of standing in the darkness.

It was chilly, both men pebbled with goose bumps before they returned to the house. Silently, they lay back in Dean's bed, just lying next to each other not touching. Finally, Dean moved his hand over until his pinky rested against Cas's.

At first, he thought that Cas hadn't even noticed, but then his hand was gripped. "Why don't we just trust each other?" Dean hadn't realized he was going to speak until he did. The words came out and he realized that it was the only place for things to go. Either they start trusting each other or they walked away.

"I'll do my best." Cas's words were almost too quiet to hear, but Dean had been primed to hear anything from the other man. The soft rumble fell on his ears and made him chuckle.

When he looked over, Cas was looking at him, blinking owlishly. The smile was becoming a laugh because Dean was suddenly kind of happy.

He pulled himself up and kissed Cas, who mostly just continued to look confused. He sobered for a moment, long enough to make sure Cas was paying attention with a few more kisses. "You're not a bad person in any way, Cas." The assurance didn't lead to a miracle. Cas didn't fall instantly in love and didn't stop doubting himself. He gave a small smile and then let Dean pull him into a cuddling position.

Dean was almost falling asleep, prepared to give this relationship an actual try, as long as he didn't chicken out in the end. He couldn't help but to let Cas know what he was thinking, though. "I could love you, some day." He felt a smile under his lips.

* * *

The end. Hope you liked it. Feel free to tell me what you thought.

-Euphie

AKA

Ketamine


End file.
